


Sanhitori City

by Insomiak



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Kurapika cross-dresses frequently, Leorio is kind of an idiot about gender okay but he'll work it out, M/M, Unresolved Romantic Tension, leokura, ot4 go after a pair of eyes together
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-31
Updated: 2017-03-28
Packaged: 2018-02-15 11:53:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 18,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2228040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Insomiak/pseuds/Insomiak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Set the eyes down and walk away, sweetie.  Your man will be waiting for you here.  I trust you can tell where we are?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part I

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! If you have any questions about triggers or warnings, feel free to message me :3
> 
> I started this when I had only seen up to the beginning of the Yorkshin arc of the 1999 version. Now I’ve only seen up to ep 103 of the 2011 version, so if something doesn’t fit with the canon, that’s why. 
> 
> I don’t have anyone to edit this for me, so if there are typos and/or something makes zero sense, please tell me!
> 
> I hope you enjoy~

The glass feels cool in his hands.  Kurapika grips it tight, knuckles whitening and a dead weight settling over him, calm and destructive.  It had taken over a year of chasing, pressing, lying, tricking bad people in the darkest deepest holes of sixteen separate city districts - playing two different sides of a dirty fight, alone the whole way.   It had taken another piece of him with it, had eaten him alive and spat out less of who he’d been before - but he’s got them, now, another pair of his people’s eyes.  

   Alone on the outskirts of the city he falls onto the grass.  Kurapika holds the glass container to his chest, hugs it and wills the hate from his body, waits for hot tears to slip between his eyelids; they come, like they always do.  The relief floods him, though empty and meaningless, but it always comes too.  

   They can’t catch up to him.  Neither the Jungs nor the Yamamoto family.  He’d been too careful, checked every possible error, and cleaned up too well.  He hadn’t gotten anyone in trouble.  He’s safe.  _They’re_ safe.  

   Kurapika’s phone rings.  He wipes dirt and water from his grey eyes, blood catching somewhere and streaking his cheek.

   “Hello?”

   The laugh on the other end of the phone is from a voice he knows he’s heard before.  It’s hollow, low.  “You certainly performed well, little boy.”

   “Who is this.”  He doesn't ask it. 

   “I bet you think you’re really something,” the woman on the phone says, dark and slow, “Tricking those snots.”

   “I’m hanging up.”  He really will.  Curiosity is something he only affords himself during his free time, or when he’s with his friends.  Now he’s alone, has been for long enough that he forgets what it is to inquire for no other reason than the desire to obtain an understanding about the once unknown.  Kurapika doesn’t care who this woman is, he just needs to keep moving. 

   “I wouldn’t do that, sweetie,” she purrs like a preening cat, “You see, we’ve been following you.  Did you think a cute little blond hunter going back and forth between two elite families would go unnoticed?  Even if he were on opposite ends of this bad old town.”

   He claws at the glass container, holding it to him.  “What do you want.” 

   “We’ve been following you since you started working with the Yamamoto family, waiting for you to get away safely with your precious prize.” 

   He curses in his mother-tongue and says again, “What do you want.”

   “The eyes, of course!  You bought them in the end, and now we’re going to take them for _free_.”

   “You think I’m going to simply hand them over?”

   She laughs.  This time it’s shrill, biting.  She stops abruptly and her voice deepens. “Honey, I’m absolutely sure of it.”

   Kurapika doesn’t say anything in return, instead waiting in silence for her to continue.

   The phone crackles.  “Speak!” The woman hollers.  For a moment he thinks she’s talking to him.  Clothes rustling, the sound of heels on a hard floor.  “I said speak!”  Kurapika’s eyes widen as empty and endless as the continuous sky itself and he can hardly breathe.  There’s a sharp groan of pain from his cell, and he knows it.  He’d know it anywhere.

   “Don’t listen to this bi-” a pounding noise, something heavy and dull hitting something soft and flesh.  “- _OW_!”

   “Leorio!”  _No, no, don’t let her know you know him!_ But his heart had leapt before his mind had a chance to act, and the worry is impossible to separate from his words.  _Are you okay?_   He manages to stop himself from asking that, at least.  

   “It’s simple.”  Her velvet voice returns to his ear.  Kurapika feels red hot rage clawing up his spine, entrenching in his body.  “You understand, don’t you, sweetie?  I don’t want to kill anyone.  Please don’t make me.I want to sell those eyes for a profit, that's all,” she says with forced innocence.  He can hear Leorio shout something in the background.  He’s silenced quickly.  “Are you up for a little trade?”

   Kurapika wants to scream.  Pressure builds behind his brow.  Sixteen months of running this city’s underground, playing the good-natured servant and spy, of being so _careful_ , and someone had been trailing him the whole time.  Laughing and waiting for this exact moment.  But they’re _his_!  They’re his whole life.  They’re everything he has left, the memory of his past, and he’s finally got another set grasped in his hands and he’d sworn over and over and over again that he’d never let anything or anyone stop him or _distract_ him from reclaiming his people.  

_Distract me…?_

   Now isn’t the time for that.

   Kurapika takes a long, strong breath, and tries to calm himself; or at least get to a place where he can fake it while he needs to.It is very difficult for him to remain calm where the eyes are concerned.  “Fine.  How and when.”

   “Don’t give this asshole anything!  KURAPIKA!”

   A louder, more blunt _thwack!_ rings out through the phone.  Kurapika hears Leorio’s heavy body crash to the floor.  He knows the sound just as easy as his voice.

   “Set the eyes down and walk away, sweetie.  Your man will be waiting for you here.  I trust you can tell where we are?”

   Kurapika thinks for a moment.  His eyes widen with realization.  “My…”

   “Your apartment!  Very good.  You _are_ a smart little thing, aren’t you, cutie.”  She laughs, soft.  “And since you are, I’m sure you know already, but we’re watching you, so don’t try anything fancy.  Just drop the eyes like a good boy.”

   Kurapika’s whole body vibrates when he does it.  The glass slides between his fingers and falls neatly on the grass, just outside of the city.  Just on the edge of freedom.  He walks away from them with stiff legs, fights against his feelings to remain organized and attentive, to not fall apart just yet.  Warm wind passes over him, sweeping through his hair; he focuses on it the whole way to his apartment.

   He’d rented it just for the mission in this city.  It was a nice place, with book shelves and a veranda overlooking the ocean; he focuses on that, too.

   By the time he reaches the building, he knows that woman and her subordinates are long gone.  

   Kurapika climbs the stairs, turns the key in the door, holds himself together just long enough to get inside the room and shut the door tight before he clamps one hand into a fist and smashes through the granite countertop of the kitchen, eyes flaring bright red and vision blurry, head hot, absolutely gone with violence and hate and rage.  He breathes heavily, looking down at the crumbled stone.  In, out.  Another rush of anger swells inside him and Kurapika turns to punch a hole in the wall behind him -

   — sees Leorio sitting awake on the living room floor — 

   and wrecks the wall with a hit that is half-hearted, weak.  _Disappointed_.  He stares at the floor with his fist still entrenched into the wall.He’d failed.  What’s the use in getting angry?  He hadn’t been careful enough.  He hadn’t been strong, smart, good enough.  Their faces flash through his mind, alive then torn up, dead, rotting, haunting, every single one of them.

   Kurapika falls to the floor, holds his head and screams with hoarse, bloodless fury into his knees until his eyes are grey again.

   A warm hand finds his shoulder as the blond starts to breathe normally.  

   “Kurapika.”

   He lifts his head up.  No tears, no trace of any loss, any pain.  Eyes completely back to normal.  He unfolds himself and stands up, looking at his tall friend as seriously as he can.  But honestly, Kurapika thinks he might pass out he’s so exhausted.

   “Are you okay?”

   Leorio looks offended by the question.  “Me?”  He nods towards Kurapika’s hand, which is hanging down by his side.  “You’re the one dripping blood all over the floor.”  Leorio heads into the living room, saying over his retreating shoulder, “Let me clean it.”

   “It’s fine.”

   When the doctor-in-training comes back into the kitchen with his suitcase, he frowns at Kurapika.  “Like hell it is.”

   “Leorio.”

   “What?”  

   They glare at each other for a few moments, the steady drip drip drip of blood the only count for passage of time.  It’s nearly uncanny how at home it feels.  Kurapika pushes it away without a second thought.

   Gritting his teeth together, Leorio manages a strained, “ _Let me_.”

   “No.”

   “ _Kura_ —”

   “Alight… alright,” he says, not meeting Leorio’s eyes.  He’s too tired for any of this.  For the banter, the fighting, for anything.  With one hand and a quick hop he sets himself on the counter, next to the part he’d busted.Kurapika looks — _really_ looks — at Leorio finally.  

   Dark eyes, dark hair, strong jaw.  The same. 

   His heart throbs a little harder, and he thinks for the second time that now is really not the time for that.

   “I –”

   “How –”

   They both start with the same breath.

   Leorio shakes his head, cleaning Kurapika’s sliced up knuckles with antiseptic and gauze.  “You go.”

   “How did they… I mean,” he hisses as the alcohol seeps into the cuts, “How did they find you?  I changed my name, hid my license… I didn’t contact any of you.”

   Leorio laughs once, a wry smile on his lips.  “Yeah, I noticed.”  He looks up at him for a second, as if waiting for Kurapika to apologize for it.  The blond doesn’t.  Leorio looks back to his hand.  “I’m not sure.  Maybe someone recognized you, and told her gang?  Someone who knew you as a hunter.”

   “But no one knows that I’m a Kuruta.”

   “They wouldn’t need to, and neither would she, right?  Just that you were planning to take the eyes, and who your friends are.  Uh.”  Leorio reaches into his suitcase and pulls out a bandage roll; his movements are jerky, unsettled.  “I came here for a research project.  At least, I think I did.  I’m willing to bet _they_ planted that seed.  Anyway, this morning I was helping a little kid who’d gotten lost, being the _fantastic_ guy that I am,” Kurapika only stares deadpanned when Leorio grins broadly at him.  “She turned around and knocked me out!  Brat!  Then I woke up here, with that asshole holding a gun to my head.” 

   He lets go of Kurapika’s hand, wrapped up and clean.

   “You shouldn’t have given them to her,” Leorio says, glaring into the living room where she had presumably stood over him with said gun.

   The blond closes his eyes slowly.  "What was I supposed to do?"

   “Kurapika, I… I’m–”

   “Don’t.”

   Leorio does. “I’m going to get them back.”

   “No!”  Grey eyes shoot open.  He stiffens straight up, glaring almost nose-to-nose with the taller man.He'd been expecting an 'I'm sorry,' or something similar that would lay fallacious blame on Leorio.Not _that_.

    “It’s my fault.I should’ve known it was a trap.”

   “How could you have known?  _I_ didn’t even know they were tracking me.”

   “But–”

   “Leorio, no.”

   “Listen to me!”

   “ _You_ listen to _me_!”Kurapika’s eyes harden.  “This is my problem.  I’ll handle it.  Just get away from–”

   “Don’t start with that, I’m already here!”

   The anger in his voice rises.“Then _leave_!”

   “I wont!  Look, I’ve got–”

   “NO!”  Kurapika shouts, loud, reeling forwards on the counter until Leorio is forced to take a step back. “Don’t you understand?  I swore I’d never put anything above them, that I’d do _anything_ for them.  But you – I allowed _you_ – and Gon, and Killua – to mean something to me.  To mean just as much to me.”

 “I know that already, so let me _help_ ,” he says it so desperately, something Kurapika’s never heard.

   “I don’t want to watch anyone else I care about die.”

   “I wont die, then.”

   “Leorio!”

   “Kurapika,” he says with a cheeky smile.  “Just accept it, okay?  We’ve gotta get out of here before those families you tricked catch on, right?  And guess what–”

   Kurapika folds his arms and purses his lips.

   “I know where those eyes are going!  I’ve been trying to tell you.  I over heard that hag, when they thought I was still unconscious.”

   “What…?” 

   “She’s going to sell them to this old rich bastard,” Leorio says, moving to lean on the counter next to his friend, “Name’s Saul Rutherford.  Owns three islands off the southern coast.”  He grins wide at Kurapika, bending sideways to nudge him.  “We can get them back, no problem.  I had all day to come up with the _perfect_ plan.”

   The blond wants to fight it, to knock Leorio unconscious and ship him a million miles away from all of this.  He wants to say no.  Tell Leorio again that he needs to do this alone.

   But he's tired, and Leorio's voice is too familiar.Kurapika lets his head fall gently on a warm shoulder and passes out. 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Sunlight seeps in between his eyelids, blinding him as he slowly wakes from blissful unconsciousness.Kurapika can feel himself rocking gently back and forth.The sensation is familiar.He's lying on his side, head rested on something warm, alive, shifting slightly; his whole body is slack, and he feels better than he has in months.Breathes deeply.Felicity fills him as he does. The air is cool, but the sun across his face and neck keep him warm.He assumes he's dreaming, and will wake up in his city apartment any moment to face another day of sneaking between two powerful families in a wretched city. 

The sound of screeching metal on metal strikes his ears.

Grey eyes open in a flash.

"Morning," Killua says, grinning down at the blond.  

Kurapika looks up at his friend.Realizes just where his head is – on the young man's lap – and sits up, straight and stiff.

"Killua…?"

"Yo."He's still grinning crookedly.

"Kurapika!"Gon says, sitting opposite them and smiling brightly."Long time no see!" He launches across the compartment to wrap Kurapika in a hug, holding him tight.

"Gon?"He looks down at the boy pressed into his chest, confused and bewildered, but places an arm gently around his back.  

"Are you okay?" Gon asks, pulling away a little, "You've been asleep for _days_."

"I have?"

Killua nods."We had to carry you around."

"You mean _Leo_ –"

Killua throws a pillow at Gon's face, sending him to the floor.  

"Anyway," the white haired boy says, stomping on Gon's head to keep him down, "We're helping you out now.Don't argue."

Kurapika frowns."Helping me with what?"

"What do you think?"

Before he can answer, the door to the compartment slides open and Leorio walks in, cup of coffee gripped in one hand.He looks at Kurapika and his face lights up.

"You're awake!"

"Leorio!"The blond stands abruptly, prodding a finger into the other man's chest. "What did you do?What are they doing here?"

"I called them.They said they wanted to help."

"And you _let_ them?"

His shoulders lax, like the fall of an exasperated sigh."They came on their own."

"They're children!”Kurapika jabs his finger harder into his chest."It isn't safe!"

Leorio laughs lightly."Seriously?They're fine."

Killua, still stomping Gon into the floor, nods.Gon notes his lack of attentiveness and pulls on his ankle, dragging his friend to the floor with him.He jumps up, practically elastic, and plops onto Killua's back."Totally fine," he says, looking proudly at Kurapika.“And we’re sixteen now, anyway,” he adds. 

Killua rolls over on top and mushes Gon's face into the floor, eyes wide and bright and focused."Don't _sit_ on me," he says, "you shit head."

"Don't call me a shit head, Killua…"

"Sorry, sorry."

Leorio pushes the cup of coffee into the hand Kurapika has pressed into his chest, forcing him to take it.He walks past the blond, scratching his head, and collapses onto the seat with his eyes shut.Killua moves to sit next to him, Gon across from Killua, which leaves Kurapika with the spot opposite Leorio.  

He's not an immature little brat, though, unlike _some_ underhanded doctors-in-training who stick their huge noses into your business - so he sits down in the empty spot neatly.Takes a sip of the (unfortunately exactly-how-he-likes-it) coffee, and resolves to remain composed.

"So –" Killua starts.

"You all have to leave," Kurapika says, keeping his voice as low and serious as he can."This isn't your problem."

Killua turns to face him, looking directly at the blond with level ice-blue eyes."We're making it our problem."

"It's my fault," Leorio says, "I should've realized an all-expenses paid research trip was too good to be true for a nobody medical student like me."

"We can blame everything on Lirio's stupidity, see Kurapika?Easy."

"Hey!"

"What? _You_ said it, old man."

Leorio glares down at him.“I’m only twenty-two!"

" _Ancient_."

"At least I don't have the _hair_ of an old man!"

"Pretty sure I see a bald spot!"

While they continue to bicker, Gon looks at Kurapika with big brown eyes. His mouth is pulled into a determined frown and he's leaning forwards, hands gripping his knees. 

"Is it that you don't want to see us?"he asks, bottom lip quivering implicitly if not literally.

"Gon…"The blond lets his expression soften."Of course not."

"Does it mean less if you don't get the eyes by yourself?"

"Well, not really…"

He folds his arms and Kurapika finds himself at the receiving end of a sudden glare with worlds of determination and stubbornness behind it."Then we're helping."He glares harder and takes a big intake of air before with a booming voice he says, "YOU CAN JUST DEAL WITH IT, KURAPIKA!"Gon's words echo off the compartment walls, halting Killua and Leorio in their argument.They all go silent, the black haired boy's intense glare the loudest thing in the room.

Oddly, Kurapika feels his heart lighten.Warmth bubbles from his stomach, up his chest and through his whole body, spreading like a steady wave.He's laughing before he even realizes he wants to.It sounds foreign to his ears, feels even weirder on his lips.  

The other three look at him with surprise.Leorio is the first to relax.

"You never change, Gon," Kurapika says.

"What do you mean?"

He wipes under his eyes."Fine, you guys win."Kurapika pulls his legs up onto the seat, and takes another sip of his coffee."I'm not happy with it," he's lying and he knows they know because he can't keep his tone anything but pleased, "But all I can think to do is knock you out and run, and I'm not sure I could take you all on at once." 

"Good," Gon says with a finalizing nod.

"As if you had a choice."Killua.

Leorio just smiles at him.Minutely, keeping his mouth pressed around the mug, Kurapika smiles back.

"Where are we?How long did I sleep?"he asks after a moment.

"On our way to the apartment I rented in Sanhitori City, and three days," Leorio says.

Three days?Had he really spelt such a long time?

"You rented one apartment for all four of us?"Killua scoffs at Leorio."I don't want to share a room with a soon-to-be-corpse like you."

“Only. _Twenty. Two_."He tousles white hair roughly."There are two bedrooms, anyway."

"Don't touch my hair, I might catch something."

" _You_ -"

"So!"Gon cuts in with a cheery smile, "How about you explain the plan to Kurapika, Killua?You explained it really well to me."

The white haired boy avoids Gon's eyes and, though faintly, blushes."Right.It's easy," he says, looking at Kurapika, "Saul buys whores almost nightly –"  

"Killua!"  

"What?I'm old enough to say it."  

It's true, but Kurapika often forgets that three years have passed since he'd met these two.They'll always be kids to him.  

"Anyway, _Liorio's_ plan was for you to sneak in as a prostitute.You can thank _me_ for the modified version."Kurapika sends the med student a withering _are you serious_ look.Leorio laughs sheepishly and says that he _had_ been staring down the bad end of a gun when coming up with his Perfect Plan.Killua continues, "Kurapika, you’re still gonna be a woman.You can pull it off no problem.And if what I read is right, Saul wont care even if he does find out you're a guy, as long as no one else knows.He's a _weak_ creepy old cunt."  

The blond stiffens noticeably.

"You're not my mother, you know," Killua says, eyeing him up and down.  

Kurapika feels like a parent sometimes, but would never admit it to those two, not even on his death bed.“Continue.”

“Right,” Killua gives Leorio a sideways glance, then returns to Kurapika, "He's filthy rich by regular people's standards, and has snotty dinner parties every weekend.All you need to do is charm his pants off and get us invited to one at his manor.He keeps the eyes in his bedroom."  

Kurapika cocks a blond eyebrow at his friends."You want me to have relations with him?" 

Killua shakes his head. "Distract him.He's your typical entitled rich man.Let him take you for a walk, buy you dinner, whatever it is, just let him think he's in control and that you're crazy about him until he invites you, then tell him you have to have your three personal guards with you.Gon and me will get the eyes from his room while you’re off with him.”

As far as plans go, it's terrible. There are too many things that could go wrong, and too many weak spots wherein they could get caught.Kurapika does a quick mental count and comes up with over two-hundred ways this could blow up in their faces.But, as long as those eyes stay safe, he's willing to risk a heinous theft attempt with his best friends.It could be fun.He looks at them, their familiar faces, eyes, the energy of their aura emitting around him because none of them need to hide anything, and he realizes that he'd missed them a lot more than he'd thought.  

They work out the details of the plan, talk about their separate endeavours, and get ready for bed.Gon and Killua are asleep, dead as bricks, instantly, curled up in the pull out beds above the compartment seats (why had they gotten coach?To hide the fact that they're hunters?).He and Leorio have the next compartment over.As he’s entering the hallway, Kurapika remembers that Killua can go three days without sleep and is wondering if tonight had been his forth, when his right hand is touched by something warm and someone close.

"They're kinda cool," Leorio says, touching his hand lightly where the chains would be.

Kurapika stares flatly."Yes.I bound my _life_ for the sake of some _cool_ chains.I simply live to meet your standards of _cool_."

"God you're uptight," Leorio says with a small frown, pulling his hand away.

This gets the Kuruta's blood as hot as hellfire."At least I'm not cheap."

Leorio glares down at him."At least I know how to have _fun_.You're allergic to fun."

Kurapika clamps his eyes shut and lets his anger out, voice sharp."You're _lazy_ , and _disorganized_ , and –"

"Well you're haughty, short, too clean –"

"You can't be _too_ _clean_."

"Yes you can.It's _your_ only good trait!"

"At least people don't think I'm a slimy old man!”

"At least people don't think I'm a _woman_!"

Kurapika thinks his eyes might be burning red.He knows something else is going on here.Something neither of them want to talk about."There's nothing wrong with being mistaken for a woman.”

"Whatever." 

With that, Leorio storms off to their compartment, leaving Kurapika standing there alone in the hall.His anger subsides in slow waves with his breathing.It's started, this old thing.If it had ever even ended in the first place.He tugs gently at the chains around his hand, having conjured them sometime during their fight.Something neither of them want to talk about.He tugs harder, hating himself with sudden ferocity.He hadn't meant to come across as rude when Leorio had commented on his chains, and he wants to go tell him, apologize, thank him, but Kurapika _can't_.Indignation pours through him like a haunting spirit.Like a looming wall he wont climb.

He falls asleep watching the rhythmic rise and fall of Leorio's back.

 

 

* * *

 

 

They arrive at Sanhitori City the next morning, and, upon Kurapika’s insistence, make directly for the apartment (‘But Kurapika they have _giant_ gum balls and _electric_ cars and and some lady wanted to take me somewhere exciting!’ ‘ – such an airhead –’ ‘What, Killua??’ ‘Nothing, just come on!’).The flat they’re sharing is large, much to Killua’s relief: an open kitchen with wide windows, white walls, and sleek black furnishings, far nicer than Kurapika would ever expect from Leorio the ever messy med student.Both bedrooms have only one king sized bed.One is incredibly tacky with framed posters reading tripe like ‘The sun is smiling just for you today!’ so Kurapika claims the other one, upstairs, dumps his and Leorio’s stuff on the bed before Gon can fuss about it.

Well – not that he really would.He seems content with anywhere Killua is.  

Kurapika organizes his belongings – ignoring how neatly someone had packed them – and when he’s done, he heads downstairs to the livingroom-kitchen area.The flat really isn’t made for four inhabitance, but they’ll make it work.  

“What should we do now?”Gon is asking, kicking his feet restlessly against the couch he’s perched on.  

Killua is checking the refrigerator.“We need food,” he says, “And stuff for the bathroom.Plus,” he looks at all three of them, “new clothes.If we’re going to pass for three bodyguards and a wealthy ojou-san, we need to dress up.”Killua tilts his head lazily towards Gon and Leorio.“You two probably know shit all about passing as part of the upper ring, but luckily for you _I_ grew up with it and Kurapika has been dealing with high class snots for years now.We’ll have to train you.”

“Sounds fun!”Gon says from the couch, gripping it in anticipation.

Leorio’s reply is a soft snort.“Who’d want to learn something like that?”

Killua raises an eyebrow at him.“ _You_ would  – to kelp Kurapika, remember?”He smirks then, calculating and sly.“Or is your memory going?Pretty common at your age, old man.”

“You litt– !”

“Alright,” Gon cuts in, heading for the front door.He grabs Kurapika’s wrist on his way and drags the blond along.“We’d better get started, right?Do you know any good clothing stores in this city, Kurapika?”  

He looks down into brown eyes, alight and anticipatory.

Killua frowns and stomps over, stepping beside them with a mouth pressed into a thin line.He’s eyeing Gon’s hand where it’s holding onto Kurapika’s.“I did some research while we were on the train,” Killua says, “I know a high end store we can go to that’s far enough from the main city to keep us under the radar.”

“Oh really?”Kurapika smiles at him.“Good work, Killua.”

Much to the Kuruta’s surprise, he shifts his gaze to Kurapika’s free hand, pouting indignantly at it.He looks away quickly.“Whatever…” 

Kurapika stares at his younger friend, watching a light pink colour flare along Killua’s cheeks.If he didn’t know any better, Kurapika would assume that Killua was blushing because of being praised.He _is_ sixteen now, which is fairly young but definitely old enough for those sorts of feelings to emerge.Or perhaps Kurapika is reading too much into the situation?Certainly, if Killua were to feel that way towards anyone, it would be the boy who’s been by his side all these years?Maybe he should ask Leorio what he thinks.

 _No_.His mind protests instantly.He’s fighting with the other man, over nothing other than pride but Kurapika will _not_ lose.He won’t go back to speaking normally with him until Leorio apologizes for what he’d said on the train.Kurapika absolutely needs to hold his ground and not let the doctor get under his skin, get the better of him, or else… 

Nevermind ‘or else.’It can’t happen, and that’s that.  

Kurapika doesn’t have time for ‘or else.’

 

 

* * *

 

 

Leorio looks up skeptically at the sign over the clothing boutique.In tasteless pink cursive it reads _Nova’s Imports_ , looming over the small store like it’s glaring down at the four of them.He’s the only one glaring back at it, though.Kurapika, Gon, and Killua seem happily preoccupied with the idea of shopping.Both Killua and Kurapika had explained to Gon and Leorio the dos and don’ts of sporting this and that particular suit, boring things like not adjusting yourself freely or whatever.Leorio hadn’t really been listening.  

Killua picks matching suits out for Leorio and Gon, then one for himself as well, doing the measuring himself and explaining that it was all part of belonging to a family of assassins who had to, depending on the circumstances, attend ‘fucking boring’ dinner parties when being hired for jobs.At least, the children did.His parents never needed to, nor his grandfather.Leorio stays quiet listen to the explanation, never very comfortable with Killua’s past.

Gon turns his head backwards to look at the white haired boy, who is behind him, measuring the tail end of his suit.“You sure learned some diverse things, growing up as an assassin.”

“I guess, yeah.My father wanted us to know how to blend into any kind of social circle.”Killua gives Leorio a once over, still kneeling behind Gon.“Yours is fine, old man.You can buy that one.Keep in mind there’s a chance this Rutherford guy – or someone else – might notice how new these suits are, don’t freak out and make up something stupid.Stick to the plan.We lost our baggage and had to buy new clothes.”

“I got it already,” he says, waving a hand in dismissal.Leorio frowns and stomps away.Who does that brat think he is?Telling his elders what to do… Doesn’t Killua trust him?They may not be as close as him and Gon, but after all this time Leorio had figured the ex-assassin would know him well enough to be sure Leorio would do everything in his power to make this mission a success.  

Without realizing it, Leorio’s feet wander over to the dress section of the formal wear.  

Kurapika is holding an arm-full of sleek dresses and studying Leorio’s sour expression with calm ease, nose turned up slightly.“It’s not that he doesn’t trust you, you know,” he says, his expression blank.“It’s that he knows you well enough to understand which parts of the plan you’ll have the most difficulty with.In your case,” the blond shifts onto his right foot, hip jutting out.“It’s small details that make you flustered.At least when it comes to lying,” Kurapika adds.   

“Are you calling me a bad liar?”Leorio’s frown is more of a pout, but he does his best to keep it dark.They’re supposed to be fighting, aren’t they?He doesn’t feel like doing it.He should just apologize for snapping at Kurapika on the train, even if the blond was the one who reacted rudely.They haven’t seen each other in months.It’s no fun, seriously fighting like this.And besides, if he apologizes, _he’ll_ be the bigger man!  

The blond shifts his position again.“I suppose.”He makes to leave, likely towards the changing rooms.

Leorio’s hand reaches out without his permission and grabs Kurapika’s elbow.He turns and pauses, one eyebrow raised.Leorio looks at grey eyes blankly for a moment before his lips catch up with his actions, “Wait, Kurapika.”

“I already am,” he says, frowning.   

The med student trips over the beginning of a sentence only half thought out in his head.“I- I’m–”Kurapika’s unwavering and placid gaze shouldn’t get to Leorio after all these years, but it kind of does anyway.The black haired man sighs slowly, letting himself deflate and look away from intense grey eyes.“You’re not too clean, okay?”He says it with bite, scratching the back of his neck.“Or whatever I said.” 

The arm grasped in his hand relaxes, and Kurapika turns to fully face him.“I’m sorry as well.”He grips the dresses to his chest, the only thing indicative of his own relief at the apology.Leorio relaxes too.“I guess, with everything that happened, I was tired.You…” Kurapika smiles softly.“It’s good to see you again.Even if we don’t succeed, I’m–” 

Leorio spots his chance for a change of topic, to avoid the reason for the flutter his heart dives into at the blond’s words.“We will,” he says, looking sternly at Kurapika, “We’ll get them back.” 

If Kurapika had been thinking of arguing the point, he lets it go with another small smile.“Alright.”   

The blond heads inside the changing room, and Leorio finds himself waiting around outside of them.There’s a small area covered in black with three full-body mirrors for customers to check themselves in.He takes a seat near it, setting his elbow on his knee and his head in his palm, trying his best to look indifferent, maybe even put-off.What is he doing sticking around here?He should go pay for his suit and wait for them back at their apartment. 

Instead, his mouth opens and words fall out in a grumpy heap.“I’ll be a nice guy and help you pick out some dresses, so be grateful.”

“Really?”Kurapika’s voice is light and feathery, meaning he’s concentrating on something else and hadn’t really listened, but has at least he still acknowledged Leorio.He hears the soft rustling of clothes and sock feet stepping around, then something murmured, a comment about the dress probably, and finally the lock on the door opens and Kurapika steps out.   

The dress is long, royal blue with a square-cut breast and small triangles for sleeves that barely cover his shoulders.It’s wavy and ghosts neatly across the floor as he walks.There’s silver trim along the waist, jewelled and shining. 

It doesn’t fit Kurapika at all, in Leorio’s opinion.The colour is fine, but the sleeves are all wrong, and those jewels are gaudy.They take away from his eyes. 

The blond checks himself in the mirror, frowning.   

“Do you think this is feminine enough?”He turns to look at his back in the mirror.“I think I would still look too boyish, even with breasts.”He says it so matter-of-factly, the same way he speaks when he’s working out the details of any other plan, that it takes Leorio a moment to catch up.“It does’t hug my waist in the correct places.” 

“You always look like a man to me, so…” Which isa lie, but Kurapika doesn’t need to know. _See that? I am_ not _bad at lying!_ Frankly, Leorio suspects some number of people think Kurapika is a woman even when he wears a suit.How can someone be so pretty and not be a girl?There’s something unfair about it that always makes him feel cheated when he looks too long at the blond.“But I think the-”Leorio doesn’t know the proper term, so he draws a line under his own breast where the jewels are, “-looks off.”

“Off?”

“You know,” Leorio waves a hand, “Not you.” 

Kurapika raises a thin blond eyebrow at him.“Are you suggesting you have some sort of idea as to what kind of dress is suited for me?” 

“What can I say?”He grins and leans back in his chair.“Popular guys like me know a lot about women’s clothes.” 

“Right.”Kurapika folds his arms.“Care to go and pick something out, then?” 

Leorio counters the wistful disbelief in his grey eyes with a proud grin.“You bet!Prepare to be astounded by my amazing powers of perception.” 

While Kurapika quietly mumbles that enjoying the way women _look_ in dresses has entirely nothing to do with understanding the aesthetics of _how_ , Leorio stands up and ventures into the neat racks of clothes.He passes the fluffy and puffy ball gowns without a thought.Something sleek would be better.Anyone would think that!Kurapika is a small guy! He rifts through the racks more quickly, willing his brain to shut up.This is for _work_ – sort of – a mission with his nakama!It’s got nothing to do with anything else. 

Leorio picks out three dresses.One is an off-white blue, uneven around the bottom with thin straps over the shoulders and a straight-cut breast.The second is black and stops above the knees, only one thick strap over the right shoulder and a fanning bottom, ribbon tied around under the chest.The last one is red and long and silk, with the back cut out.He’d picked them out completely at random.Absolutely.  

The med student scratches his neck as he hands the dresses to Kurapika, who is now wearing a navy blue one.It’s very low in the front, made for someone with large breasts, so his chest is clearly visible.The image is incongruous for Leorio - the low dip of cleavage very flat and very masculine but the implication of full breasts where the fabric lifts off his skin is still there, and he stares at it, trapped, for a moment.He might be small, but really, the blond is pretty lean, built from fighting.And his skin seems so soft. 

Leorio lights _that_ thought on fire and ties a fifty-ton rock to it and throws it into the deepest part of the ocean.  

“Here,” he says, to get the blond’s attention, averting his eyes.  

Kurapika inspects the dresses meticulously.It starts to piss Leorio off, his careful tactical nature, though he doesn’t know why since Kurapika is always like that.Eventually the blond lifts the red one from Leorio’s arm and slips back into the changing room, wordlessly. 

After a minute, Leorio leans close to the door and says, “So?”  

“The other two were ridiculous, but this isn’t so bad,” Kurapika says as he unlocks the door.Leorio takes a few steps back.“I’m actually impressed you managed to choose it.” 

“Oi…” 

Kurapika steps out of the changing room, a delighted smile on his lips as he looks down at himself.He twists his spine to look at his back, checking himself over studiously.   

But 

The _back_ – 

It dips down in a smooth curve just above his butt, Kurapika’s back completely naked all the way to his shoulders.Someone could just yank at it and he’d been mooning the whole store!Leorio hadn’t thought it seemed that low when he’d picked it out.He never would have brought it over if he’d known.He has _no_ desire to see his friend in something so sensual.

“I like it,” Kurapika says, “And it covers my chest completely, so it will be easy to create fake breasts.”He smiles at Leorio, kind and appreciative.“Good thinking.”  

Leorio looks at Kurapika’s chest, the tight muscle under the silk fabric.“Y-Yeah,” he replies.“That’s why I picked it, naturally.” 

“Are you guys _done_ yet?”Comes an impatient voice from the cash register.Killua glares at them.Gon is chatting with the boy at the register, bright and earnest.They’re both back in their regular clothes, waiting around for the other two to finish. 

“Guess they’re done already.You gonna get that one?”Leorio asks as disinterestedly as possible. 

Kurapika walks into the changing room.The muscles in his back shift and alter with his movements, nothing particularly feminine or masculine about it and that confuses Leorio more than anything.“Only if you promise not to be a completely unbearable ass about having successfully chosen it,” he says with clear fondness in his voice, along with a playful lilt. 

Leorio forgets his confusion at the familiar tone.He grins as he replies.“I’m never like that.” 

“Oh, you’re pretty unbearable at times.I would know.” 

“The only thing unbearable about me is how attractive I am.” 

“Yes, of course,” Kurapika laughs once, breathy and definitely sarcastic, “That’s the _only_ thing.” 

“Hey…” Leorio stops as Kurapika exist the chainging room again, this time in his usual Kuruta clothes.The sight is familiar and welcoming.Leorio can’t stop the smile that breaks out over his face.“What are you saying?You don’t like me anymore?” 

Kurapika folds the dress over his arm, lifts three others from a rack that he must have decided on earlier, and makes for the register.“You’re implying I ever did.”He smirks. 

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but _you_ were the one who got all serious and emotional when we first met.”

“Only because you insisted on telling me you were interested in money alone, when I could clearly tell you weren’t that sort of person.” 

“Ha!See?You liked me!” 

“How so?” 

“What sort of person did you think I was?” 

“I told you on the train, remember?”His smirk is nearly wolfish.“Lazy, disorganized… Not the type to be particularly greedy.” 

 _This guy and his back-handed compliments._ At least this is their typical banter, and not a real fight.It feels good for things to be normal between them.“Well I–” 

“Oh my god.”Killua says it like a teenager who’s embarrassed by their parents.“Will you two stop fucking flirting and just pay so we can go?”   

Leorio reels and makes to snap a retort at his younger friend, nerves completely flared.But a hand grasps his elbow gently.Kurapika shakes his head at Leorio.His grey eyes say clearly, ‘He’s just trying to rile you up - let it go.’How Leorio knows that’s what he means he isn’t so sure, but he tugs his arm away with a growl and slams his eyes shut.“I got it,” Leorio says, quiet enough for only Kurapika to hear.     

They pay for their new clothes and exit the boutique, pilling into the car Leorio had rented for their stay in Sanhitori City.He drives everyone to the grocery store, Killua sitting next to him up front giving directions from his phone.  Kurapika is listening to Gon rant and rave about some adventurous predicament he and his partner found themselves in weeks ago, nodding with interest as he prattles on excitedly.  The whole scenario has Leorio thinking the word 'parents.’Both of them paying attention to the teenagers separately.  There's something comforting about it.  That they're apart but connected in some way. 

The med student feels his cheeks go warm.  Where’d that come from?? 

They buy food without much incident, aside from Gon and Killua insisting they only buy snacks and Leorio drilling them on their health as growing teenagers while Kurapika silently removed candy bars and sugary drinks from their cart.  

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

When they’re back at the apartment, Leorio surprises everyone by saying he’ll make dinner.Kurapika had never really though about it, but it makes sense for the university student to be able to cook.   

Killua and Gon go off to explore the building, away in a whirlwind of shouts and stomping feet.Kurapika brings Leorio’s suit and his dresses to their room, hanging them up neatly before he heads back down to the kitchen.   

The doctor in training is slicing carrots, a content smile on his face.Kurapika spots a glass of red wine on the kitchen’s island, behind which Leorio is cooking.He’s surprised and pleased at it, that Leorio would think of it, that he would remember the brand Kurapika prefers.He’d been even more surprised at how quickly Leorio had apologized to him – feels a little guilty for never being the one to say sorry first. 

Kurapika perches on one of the high stools lining the kitchen’s island, taking a small sip of the wine.After a moment of silence, he parts his lips to speak, wondering if the older man is so entrapped with preparing a meal he hadn’t noticed the blond, but Leorio beats him to it. 

The smile is gone from his face, but he doesn’t look unhappy or grave.Only focused, and a little unsure.“How many more do you have left?”Brown eyes flick to him momentarily, then fall back to the task at his hands.“It’s been four years,” he continues, “You’re almost done, right?” 

The blond is entirely silent until Leorio is looking at him again.Then he nods.He won’t say how many more, and he’s grateful when Leorio doesn’t ask. 

The med student looks back down at the cutting board.“You know…” Kurapika’s breath catches.   His head reels with a thousand reasons and rejections and excuses he’ll say when Leorio suggests what Kurapika thinks he might be about to.  

But Leorio doesn’t suggest it.Instead, his cheeks colour faintly and his slams his eyes shut, looks as if he’s forcing the words out.“Spring break is next month.”Kurapika eyes the clench in his jaw, tunes into the growl in his voice, and takes a slightly fuller drink of his wine.“If you need any help.I wouldn’t mind.”The carrot slips off the cutting board as he slices off-kilter with the knife.Leorio fumbles awkwardly, becoming more flustered.

Relief filling him, Kurapika can’t keep the fond under-breath laugh from escaping his mouth.

“Don’t laugh, idiot!”Leorio has a death-grip on the half chopped carrot.“I’m serious.You always do stuff on your own.I mean, I know you can handle it, but you don’t have to, not all the time… – look you’re like my best friend so if you need a second-in-command just call me, got it?” He finishes in a rush, his face an unusual mix of embarrassment and anger. 

Kurapika smiles openly at him, heart fluttering pleasantly.“You’re my best friend as well.” 

“No arguing is going to change my mind!No one can do everything by themself!You’ll work yourself into the ground, do you hear me?You need to take care of your body!You–”Brown eyes widen and blink thrice as Kurapika’s words finally sink into his brain.Leorio looks dumbfounded at the blond.Like he can’t believe it.“Wh-What?Really?” 

“Of course.”Kurapika frowns slightly.“I assumed it was obvious.”

“But…” 

The blond sips his wine like a preening bird.He feels… relaxed.Maybe it’s the alcohol, but Kurapika doubts it.He’s no lightweight.“I’ve always wished I could introduce you to my parents.Killua and Gon too, of course,” he adds.“But you especially, because you mean a–” 

Leorio reaches a hand out and takes Kurapika’s wineglass away, surprising and silencing him. 

“I think you’ve had enough of this.” 

“What?”   

Leorio keeps it held away beside his head, eyes closed and looking sage-like.“I know you.You’re going to regret having told me that in the morning.” 

“I will not!”Kurapika looks incredulously at him.   

“You never talk about your parents.”

“Leorio.Stop being ridiculous and give me back my wine.”

The smirk on his face is small and hidden but Kurapika can see it clearly.“Not happening.”

“You’re unbelievable,” the blond says with a light sigh, folding his arms.He’s hardly half way through the glass.“Of course I’d want to introduce you to my family.Why would I regret telling you?”

“It’s too _personal_.”

Kurapika’s voice bites a bit, but it’s nothing they’re both unused to.“ _You’re_ the one who becomes shy at sharing their feelings.”

“I do not!”Leorio’s eyes are finally open. 

“You do.” 

They glare at each other evenly a moment before Leorio deflates, sighs, and sets the wineglass back on the counter.“You’re absolutely right,” he says, hanging his head in mock-shame. 

Kurapika stifles a sudden laugh at the older man’s antics, taking another sip of wine to cover it before it can bubble over.  

“I guess I’d like to introduce you to my old lady someday,” Leorio avoids grey eyes.

Watching his pink cheeks, Kurapika smiles.“I’d be honoured.”  

They don’t say anything more, just enjoying each other’s company while it lasts.Killua and Gon come thundering in a few minutes later.The peaceful atmosphere is shattered, but Kurapika doesn’t mind, is grateful it had existed at all.  

The four of them sit around the tv while they eat, being an unofficial family and not requiring traditional dinners of each other.Killua chooses something violent and action-packed that Kurapika finds himself growing interested in, oddly enough.He can’t even remember the last time he sat down and watched a movie.Being fairly ignorant to their nuances and cliches, he stares wide-eyed at the screen as people are violently killed without a spark of real death in their eyes.What a strange form of entertainment…

Leorio stands and gathers their dishes.Kurapika blinks away from the screen when his plate is taken.When his mind reattaches to the real world, he stands up and pushes the older man away from the sink, calling Killua and Gon over to help.

“The one who prepared the meal shouldn’t clean up as well,” is the only explanation he provides.  

Gon and Killua whine as they pause the movie and help Kurapika wash up, but they manage to make a game out of it.By the end they’re both soaked and laughing, insistent that the other lost.Kurapika sighs and tells them to go start the bath.They race down the hall, Gon crashing into a picture frame and knocking it onto the floor, Killua laughing in victory as he slides into the bathroom first on his sock feet.He crashes into something as well.A faint curse echoes down the hallway.

Eventually Kurapika hears the bath water run.

“I did not come here to be a parent,” he says, rubbing his temple.

Leorio shrugs at him from the couch, movie still paused.“No one’s forcing you.”

Kurapika shoots him a sharp glare.“Says the man who made them a balanced meal.”

“Shut up.”The med student sulks and looks away.His eyes flick back to the blond for a split second, then away again.“Do you wanna finish the movie?”

 _Yes_.Kurapika’s whole body aches with the answer. _Yes.Yes_. He has to physically stop himself from taking a step towards the sitting area.The windows are dark, painted with the night sky and bright city lights floors below them.Leorio’s wide shoulders are inviting.During all the months apart, Kurapika had managed to ignore all of this, but having the older man around constantly like he is now, the blond is finding everything difficult to evade, to brush off as nothing.It isn’t nothing and it never has been.But it’s something he won’t allow himself, not even the possibility of, until his people are at rest. 

“I…” Kurapika starts, unsure of what he means to say.“I wouldn’t be opposed…”His heart feels feathery, gone with his breath as he exhales after the words have fallen and he can’t take them back.Doesn’t want to.He’s appalled at his complete lack of strength and willpower.He is sick with himself.He’s angry.

But Kurapika is also tired of constantly fighting it.All these years.  

His people wouldn’t berate him for loving someone.It isn’t that.Only that loving someone could replace the rage in his heart, could make his anger fade away, could calm him.  

“Oh,” is all Leorio manages when Kurapika sits on the couch next to him.His brown eyes are wide and perplexed.Kurapika just pulls a warm blanket over his lap and waits for the older man to get over it and press ‘play.’He does, and soon they’re both enveloped in electronic light and loud shouts of whatever nonsense violence Killua had chosen.Leorio leans back, spreading his arm over the love-seat, hand just shy of blond hair.   

There’s a decent amount of space between their bodies, but the back of Kurapika’s neck is warm where those fingers are almost touching.  

The movie roars on.Kurapika loses himself in it once again, still amazed that anyone could find the acting believable.He watches a pretty girl with caramel skin get shot through the head and thinks, at least it’s not a romantic movie.That would certainly incur certain actions he wants to keep at bay.  

“This movie is pretty bad, huh?”Leorio mutters, something tilted in his voice.His fingers twitch behind Kurapika’s neck.

The blond hums affirmatively in reply.“I agree.”He wants to lean across the couch and pull Leorio flush against him, line their bodies together from head to toe.The desire is so sudden and strong he shivers, a warm and electric sensation running down his spine.  

“Yeah…”

Leorio is silent after that.The blond tries to focus on the movie once again, forcing himself to forget about tingling sensations and dark eyes.It is only a partially successful effort.He should not have sat down.He should have told Leorio he was tired, and gone to bed.Fell asleep before him so he could avoid _all_ of this.It’s starting to make Kurapika go a little crazy.It hadn’t been this bad, the last time he’d spent time with the med student; there is that saying about distance and fondness and hearts, perhaps it holds some truth. 

Somehow, Kurapika’s eyes end up shut.He doesn’t recall closing them.  

When he opens them again, he’s alone and the room is dark.  

He’s curled up in a tight ball, his side laying against the back of the couch, facing towards where Leorio had been sitting.The older man must have gone up to bed.But it’s a little odd for Leorio not to have woken him up – the med student is generally very passionate about friends getting a good night’s sleep. 

Does he want some space?Maybe Kurapika should spend the night on the couch…   

He sighs and moves to stretch out along the cushions, thinking that at the very least he needs to sleep in preparation for the plan tomorrow, when he hears sock feet padding down the stairs.They’re Leorio’s.He knows them effortlessly.Heavy, thumping, and a little awkward.

Two hands are shaking his shoulders and his voice is so gentle Kurapika feels his chest tighten at it.“Hey…”Pretending to be asleep, the blond slowly opens his eyes.His vision is filled with Leorio, hands on either of his upper arms.“I… I wasn’t sure if I should wake you up, but it’s pretty cold down here,” Leorio mumbles, kneeling beside the couch.“Uh I guess I could’ve just gotten you a blanket, but… um…”Leorio is embarrassed - the blond can hear it in his voice and see it in the way his hand is shaking where its set on the cushions - but he’s not running away.For Kurapika, it’s the exact opposite.“You’re awake now so anyway… You should sleep in a bed.Tomorrow’s gonna be…” He trails off.Brown eyes search grey, and whatever he’s looking for, Kurapika looks away before Leorio can find it.

“Alright.”  

The blond stands and heads upstairs, passing the med student without a glance.He brushes his teeth, washes his face, changes, and crawls into the large bed.Leorio is already in it, taller frame a lump in the dark under the covers.Kurapika places himself as far away from him as possible.Whether for the sake of his resolve or to make Leorio more comfortable, he’s not entirely sure.  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Part II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An update - three years later!!!
> 
>  
> 
> ~~Is anyone going to read this?~~
> 
>  
> 
> Leorio is still pretty ignorant about gender in this part. But don't give up on him!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

    Kurapika’s bare feet hit the carpet floor before six the next morning, hair falling in a messy flop until he runs his fingers through it.  He hadn’t slept particularly well, and the light breaking through the windows stings his eyes.  

  The lump on the other side of the bed groans and shifts.  Kurapika smiles at the sound, low and rumbling over the soft noise of sheets gliding past each other.  It makes the morning feel slow.  He wishes it could last all day, the ease and tranquility found in the few minutes before the day sets in.  Even after a restless sleep, waking up with Leorio in the same room has Kurapika feeling more calm than he’s felt in months.

  “Will you… coffee…”  The med student mumbles into the pillow.

  Kurapika lifts himself up and stretches, clad only in a large t-shirt and shorts.  Being located in the south, Sanhitori City is warm; part way through the night he’d debated sleeping topless.  A quick reminder of whom was lying next to him quelled the desire.  

  Sort of.

  Kurapika sighs and heads downstairs.  For the rest of the time he is with Leorio, he will do a more efficient job at burying these inclinations.  Last night had been too close, he’d loosened up too much, and had nearly given in.  No more near-flirting or movie-watching.  No more calm, collected peacefulness.  He won’t let himself be pulled in further.  If that means he has to push Leorio away at every turn, that he must be overtly rude, even hurt him, so be it.  It will be better for the both of them in the long run if Kurapika distances himself.

  He still makes coffee for him, however.  He does it without thinking. Leorio is extremely disagreeable without caffeine, and Kurapika has no desirer to deal with it.  He’s partial to hot drinks in the morning too, anyway.  

  The smell fills the white kitchen slowly.  The rising sun sifts through the open windows, covering the apartment with orange light.  It’s warm on his neck and cheeks, and Kurapika walks over to the large window next to the couch to look out over Sanhitori City.  Their apartment is at the mid-point of a tall skyscraper, so he can see along the rooves of a great deal of other buildings.  They all glisten white and silver back at him.  

  Staying here, in the centre of the city, had been a good plan.  The large apartment complex is located near the lower ring, and no one of this Rutherford man’s social standing would dare be seen so close to the impoverished areas.  

  He shifts his gaze westward.  The market street is coloured in reds, blues, violets, and pinks, workers just waking up to tend to their small shops.  He watches a child trip while carrying an arm full of fresh fruit, flat on their face; the fruit spills everywhere, and the child scurries to gather it up, likely holding tears in as they apologize to an old woman, bowing repeatedly.  She only ruffles their hair.  Kurapika can’t make out any expressions from so far away, but he imagines they’re both smiling.

  He sets his forehead on the glass and hugs his elbows, watching the scene.  It’s good to have people in your life who care for you, who you care for as well.  He’d never deny that.

  But what can he do?  He doesn’t want to let him go, or give up on it, watch him go through life with someone else.  Yet he won’t let himself become distracted.  Wont let him in.  Not now.  Not yet.  If Leorio finds someone else while Kurapika isn’t around, then that’s merely circumstance and life and nothing less than he’d deserve for pushing him away.  He will accept it.

  He closes his eyes, teeth grinding, his heart inarguably aching at the thought.   _So stop thinking about it._

_Just… stop._

  “Kurapika…?”  His name is spoken in a sleepy haze, and the blond turns away from the window to see Killua standing in the middle of the hallway.  He’s rubbing one eye and yawns slowly, looking for all intents and purposes like the young boy he’d been when Kurapika had met him.  

  “What are you doing up so early, Killua?” He asks, walking back into the kitchen to pour himself a small mug of coffee.  

  The white haired boy follows him, sitting up at the island Kurapika had sat at last night.  “I could ask you the same thing.”

  “It will take me longer to get ready than the rest of you,” he explains.  Killua gives him a disbelieving look.  Kurapika breathes out slowly, acquiescing.  “And I suppose I had a difficult time sleeping.”

  “Why?”  He asks with a raised eyebrow.

  “I imagine the bed was uncomfortable.”

  Two blue eyes scrutinize him thoroughly.  “Right.”

  Perception is one of Killua’s best traits, Kurapika knows, so it’s no surprise if he’s noticed things are strange between Leorio and himself.  Still,  Kurapika tries to brush over the issue.  “Why are you awake, then?”

  Killua looks at him evenly, light eyes vibrant in the morning sun.  They flicker down the hall, towards the room he’d shared with Gon, then back at Kurapika.  “My bed was uncomfortable too,” he says, frowning.  

  “I see.”

  “Yeah.”  

  There’s a bout of silence, neither of them looking at the other.

  Killua scratches the back of his head, staring at the wall to his left.  His voice carries a dark tilt to it, forced and indignant, “I used to do Alluka’s hair, I mean, I’ve done it before, so, if you want, I could do yours or whatever.”  The white haired boy’s gaze falls on Kurapika, the bored expression on his face clearly forced.  

  Kurapika blinks, slightly surprised by the offer.  “You want to do my hair?”  

  The embarrassment that spreads over Killua’s face is more akin to shame than anything, his jaw stiffening.  Kurapika finds himself overwhelmed with the urge to make him feel at ease again.  To show him that he won’t be judged for speaking his mind, not here.

  “Well you won’t convince anyone you’re a girl with hair like _that_ ,” he snaps, folding his arms in a huff and looking away.

  Killua is actually a little like Leorio in this respect, becoming defensive the moment his ideas aren’t accepted.  Kurapika smiles at the thought.  “Forgive me, Killua, I was only surprised that you offered,” he says.  He lets his eyes soften when Killua looks at him again.  “I would be grateful if you’d lend me a hand.”

  There’s a faint pinkness on his cheeks.  “Alright,” he says, slipping off the island seat quickly, “I’ll go get the stuff - I can do it in the living room, just take a seat on the couch.”  With that, he’s off scurrying down the hall, footsteps as silent as ever.  

   _What’s this all about?_  Kurapika thinks to himself as he makes his way into the living room, coffee in one hand.  It seems completely impossible that the ex-assassin would feel anything particular for Kurapika, anything more than friendship, and certainly their prior conversation had implied that the reason for his sleepless night concerned _Gon_ , but with the way Killua has been acting around him… There’s something going on.  He never did get around to asking Leorio his opinion on the matter.

  He sits on the couch, waiting patiently.

  Killua comes into the room moments later, hair straightener and brush in his hands, and hair clips clasped along the hem of his shirt.  It’s a genuinely incongruous, yet endearing, sight.  After such a heinous upbringing, it’s nice to see Killua doing something typical of someone his age.  His lips are drawn into a concentrated line as he plugs the straightener in and sets himself on the back of the couch, legs falling down either side of Kurapika’s arms.  

  “Move forwards.”

  The blond complies, giving Killua easier access to his hair.

  “I’m just gonna straighten it.”

  “That’s fine,” Kurapika replies, taking a sip of his coffee.

  Killua pins the upper layers of his hair back, brushing the bottom parts out and then taking the straightener to it.  He’s gentle, likely from doing this for his little sister; his hair is warm when it falls back down along his neck.  The room is silent.  Kurapika feels entirely relaxed within minutes, the morning stretching out before them like an endless dream, comfortable and slow.  It’s been so long since a morning was just a morning like this.

  “Um, you know…”  Killua starts after a few minutes, letting the top layer of Kurapika’s hair down.  

  “Hm?”

  He brushes blond locks out, quiet for a few beats too long.  “When I was a kid, like when we all first met…”  He stops.  His words are more timid that usual.

  “Yes?”  Kurapika says to encourage him.

  Killua’s tone is indicative of a frown.  “Look, don’t get the wrong idea or anything, it’s different now, but I…” His grip on the brush tightens and he pulls a little roughly through blond hair.  Kurapika does his best to ignore it.  Clearly the ex-assassin needs to speak his mind.  “I used to… It’s just, you were older, and independent in a way I couldn’t imagine, and you could really kick ass, you know?  And I mean, I was a _kid_ ,” he says, more like he’s talking to himself, rationalizing.  “I was impressionable,” he finishes with an angry pout.

  “What are you saying?” Kurapika asks, though he’s figured it out by now.  Suddenly, that time Killua had called to tell him about the possibility of Chrollo’s nen returning makes a great deal more sense, as well as few other instances, flustered looks Kurapika remembers from years ago.

  Killua sighs indignantly, voice low.  His words are sharp. “I used to have a crush on you, okay?”  He practically throws the sentence at Kurapika, clearly disliking the admission. “But I don’t anymore.”

  “Why are you telling me now?”  He asks with a small smile, guessing the answer to that, too. 

  “Don’t ask when you already know the answer!”  Killua says, reeling forwards to glare at the side of Kurapika’s face.  “The old man’s right, you’re arrogance really _is_ unbelievable.”  

  Kurapika laughs lightly, the sound not breaking through his lips.  “I’m flattered by your past feelings.”

  “If you ever bring it up again I’ll kill you.”

  “Understood,” he says with a nod, taking a long drink of his coffee.  “So, are you going to tell him?”

  “What’s the point.”  Killua leans back to a sitting position, returning to Kurapika’s hair.  “I don’t think Gon thinks about stuff like that.”  He’s gentle again with his hands, but his tone sounds depleted, compressed.  “And definitely not with me.”

  Kurapika hums.  “He would if you said something.”

  “Hn.”

  Killua continues straightening his hair in silence, obviously not wanting to talk about it any longer.  He’s parted it from the left.  It will look odd, at least very different, but that’s the purpose of this, Kurapika supposes.  Still, he’s not really used to a side-part.

  After a few moments, the blond hears heavy feet stomping down the stairs.  Leorio blinks at them when he reaches the bottom floor, still looking tired but freshly showered, hair dripping, until his lips twitch into a wide grin.

  “Well this is cute.”

  “Shut up, old man,” Killua snaps, still focused on Kurapika’s hair.  “Be useful and make us food.”

  “Watch the attitude.”

  “No.”

  Leorio glares at him.  “You could be nice to me too, sometimes.”

  “You’re not dead, are you?  That _is_ me being nice.”

  The med student growls and gives up, stomping into the kitchen with a frown.  He pours himself a coffee and then takes a seat along the kitchen’s island, turning to face his two friends where they’re sitting in the living-room, his back to the island.  Kurapika notes the strong scent of his cologne - it’s not offensive, persey, but isn’t he overdoing it?

  “We can go out to eat after we’re ready,” he says.  “You know where he’ll be today, right?”

  “Of course,” Killua replies.  “I had my brother dig up information on him, so I know all of his usual hang outs.”

  When Killua is finished his hair, he races down the hall to the bedroom.  After a few silent seconds Kurapika hears Gon shout in surprise and then start laughing uncontrollably, pleading for the white haired boy to stop tickling him.  Laughing quietly to himself, Kurapika stands and heads up the stairs to finish getting ready.

  He walks back down the stairs about thirty minutes later in a dual-coloured summer dress, the top half white and the bottom blue, giving the illusion of a high-rise skirt.  It emphasizes what curves he does have.  Added to the fake-breasted bra he’d purchased and the elongation of his straightened hair, Kurapika is confident he looks every part the wealthy daughter to an overseas businessman.  

  He feels like one, anyway.

  “Kura…”

  “Woah!”  Gon says from the couch with open glee, leaning over the arm rest, “Kurapika!  You look _really_ pretty!”

  The blond stills a moment, not expecting the reaction.  It’s not as if they’ve never seen him in women’s clothes before.  But he supposes this dress (and the others he’d bought) is a little fancier than what he’s worn in the past, not to mention his hair is different.  

  Relaxing, Kurapika smiles.  “Thank you, Gon. Killua is partly to blame,” he adds, keeping his expression polite and appreciative, “I don’t think I could have managed to do my own hair nearly half as nicely.”

  Brown eyes jump towards light blue ones, “You did Kurapika’s hair, Killua?”

  “Y-Yeah…”

  “You’re always good with your hands,” Gon says, smiling brightly at him.  

  The blunt compliment - though customary of the younger man - makes Killua’s cheeks flush dark pink.  Kurapika looks cooly away when Killua turns to glare at him, knowing the older hunter had sent the conversation in that direction deliberately.  Well, what’s wrong with giving them a push?  Gon is fairly oblivious.  Not when it comes to how other people feel, but when it comes to realizing whether or not other people know how _he_ feels.  Gon is likely to assume that Killua already knows that no matter his feelings or Gon’s own, he’s in it for life; yet Killua clearly _doesn’t_ know this, based on his prior conversation with Kurapika.  Gon, without being selfish, is highly self-centred, and thus Kurapika thinks that nudging him towards realizing that Killua is uncertain about Gon’s feelings is prudent.

  And he also very badly needs a distraction from the way Leorio is looking at him.  

  “I’m gonna go get ready,” Killua says, stomping down the hall away from the other three - but not before flashing bright eyes at Kurapika and adding, “Gon, come on!”

  “Okay!”  The black haired boy says, skipping after his friend.  Leaving the two older hunters alone together in the middle of the main room.  

  Kurapika takes back anything pleasant he’s ever said about the ex-assassin.

 

* * *

 

  Leorio has never minded Kurapika wearing women’s clothes.  The first time, he had barely registered it. He’d honestly not noticed anything different.  It was just the same Kurapika, but in a skirt, or with different hair.  But now something’s different. Maybe they’d been busy trying to rescue Gon and Killua, and it wasn’t really the time for anything like gawking at your bestfriend cross-dressing.  Or maybe it’s something else. Ether way, Leorio is having a bit of a freak out.  

  Somehow, with Kurapika looking absolutely female, he can’t look away for the life of him.

  He guesses he doesn’t have a reason to, anyway.  Kurapika’s the one always pushing them apart - Leorio can’t think of why they can’t just relax and be friends like always.

  “Kurapika…”

  “What?”  

  “You look…” Pretty?  Convincing?  Leorio feels his heart speed up.  “Good,” he says finally, throat tight.  

  The blond smirks.  “Thank you,” he says, relaxing.  

  There’s an awkward beat of silence with big feet shuffling and a blond eyebrow raising; Leorio halts his foot (what is he, a ten year old?) and clears his throat, nerves jittering, joints wobbling - why - what’s going on? - He folds his arms to get himself steady, feeling flustered when blue eyes smile at him in charmed amusement.  

   The med student clears his throat again and says, “Just don’t let your temper get the better of you and kick this asshole in the face when he says something disgusting.”

   Because really, as pretty at Kurapika might look, he’s got a huge temper and an even stronger kick.

  Kurapika looks stunned.  “I don’t have a temper.”  

  “Like hell you don’t!” Leorio says, gawking. “I’m surprised you’re so willing to do this, really.”

  “It’s like I told you before.  Setting my pride aside for this, for my people, is nothing.”

  Leorio’s surprised by how easily the memory comes to him, from the beginning of the Hunter exam all those years ago.  Still, isn’t this a bit different?  It’s not pride, not exactly.  It’s more complicated than Kurapika’s strong sense of self.

  “But what if he grabs you?”  Kurapika looks like he hadn’t thought of the possibility.   “What if he does something to some other woman?  What if you find out he hits his girlfriends?  I know you, you’ll snap and kick him in the face.  I’ve seen you do it!”

  Kurapika folds his arms.  “Fine, I see your point.  What would you suggest?”

  Leorio sighs in mock-exasperation, then flashes a cheeky grin at Kurapika.  “I guess I’ll just have to be there to stop you.”

  “What?”

   “You know, calm you down.”

  Two grey eyes widen, as if Leorio had said something completely insane or impossible, instead of the simple truth it is.  It’s how it’d always happened in the past - Kurapika would be about to lose it and Leorio would shout at him to pull himself together.  He’s always liked being that person for Kurapika - seeing as how his fighting skills aren’t exactly to par with his three companions, it feels good to be useful in other ways.  But why would that shock him so much?  

  “Kurapika?”

  “Oh-”  His eyes lose their glaze and he shakes his head slightly.  The morning sun dances through his blond hair, cascading down his bare arms.  “Sorry.”  He places the palm of one hand on his temple, pressing as if he has a headache.  “You should go get ready.  We need to be in the city centre by nine.”

  They’re in the car they rented by eight-thirty, Leorio driving, Kurapika in the middle as the wealthy oujou-san, her two attending guards in the very back seats of the long sports car.  Leorio isn’t entirely sure what the plan is, because he’d been distracted and the other three seemed to have it under control.  But he does know they’re going to the centre of Sanhitori City to let Kurapika get picked up by Rutherford, who is, Killua had said, notorious for flirting with wealthy, beautiful women in public (and wealthy beautiful men, not in public).  As far as Leorio knows, his only job is to stand around and act the part of an attendant and driver.

  Sanhitori’s city centre is a large expanse of shopping districts, entertainment, and recreations facilities.  On the outskirts of this area there are kilometres upon kilometres of markets, ranging from flower markets to food, to books to bootlegged movies and anything illegal people can get away with selling.  It’s packed full, noisy, and hot.

  “This place is a lot bigger than my island,” Gon says.

  Killua whacks him over the head.  “Shut up!  We’re in disguise, you idiot.  Don’t talk about your home.”

  “Aren’t you just making it worse by saying that?”  He says, pouting and rubbing his head.

  “Well _you_ …”

  Leorio tunes them out and looks at Kurapika, who is walking in the middle of the three of them, as is custom for any high-class young lady in the midst of a busy city.  They really do look the part, even with Gon and Killua bickering.

  “Do you know where to find him?” Leorio asks, scanning the busy shopping district around them.  They’re only about five minutes from the very heart of the city according to his phone, but it’s not as if they have a tracker placed on this rich bastard.

  Kurapika doesn’t look at him when he talks, and Leorio assumes it has something to do with social protocols he doesn’t understand or give a crap about.  All this haughty high-class bullshit is beyond him, and he’s perfectly fine with that.  “The Hunter website said he frequents the cafés on main street.  So we’ll check there, first.”

  “How are you going to… like… do this?”

  The blond laughs lightly.  “You mean get him to ask me out?”

  “Yeah.”

  Kurapika hums, and then does look at Leorio.  His eyes are the same as ever, nothing masculine or feminine, just completely Kurapika.  Completely non-confusing, unlike the rest of him now.  “It should be simple enough.  According to Killua, I’m exactly his type.”  He turns back to look at the street.  “If I act the part of a docile, controllable young lady, we’ll be able to play him like a violin.  We’ll use his ego against him.”

   _Ah, there’s the Kurapika I know._  “That’s pretty conniving.”

  “This isn’t the worst thing I’ve done to reclaim a pair.”  

  For a moment, Leorio doesn’t catch the weight of his words, thinks nothing of them.  But when he looks over at the blond, his eyes are downcast and his shoulders are stiff, remembering god knows what about the past four years of his life.  How many people has he cheated?  Stolen from?  Killed?  Has he had to?  Melody had told Leorio that Kurapika is willing to kill anyone who gets in his way - but Leorio had never believed it.  And Kurapika definitely would never hurt his friends or let anything bad happen to them for the eyes — he has more than one first-hand account of that.  They’re only here now _because_ Kurapika refused to let Leorio die.

  _Which reminds me, this is all my fault_.  

  Looking away - being as inconspicuous as possible and very thankful that Killua and Gon are still too busy arguing to notice - Leorio sets his hand on Kurapika’s bare lower arm, pressing in.  “We’ll get them back.”  Kurapika pulls away from him sharply.  Leorio guesses it isn’t normal for a servant to touch his charge or whatever the hell, but he’s still a little annoyed at being rejected.  He feels cold, despite the tropical weather.  Even more so angry because what the hell?  Aren’t they over this?  Yesterday evening had been- they’d- They were _them_.  So what’s his deal?

 He glances at Kurapika’s blond (straightened and styled) hair, the only view available as his head is turned away from Leorio.  

  Worry wades through him like a slow, heavy nausea.  What can he do?  How can he… How is he supposed to make everything alright?  Because that’s all he wants, for his friend to be happy, laughing, at peace _finally_.  This little mission might get him another pair of eyes, might give him a break from constantly working alone, but it won’t fix anything.  Leorio can’t help him the way he wants, as much as he wants, and seeing him so angry and being pushed away because of this anger and realizing that there is nothing Kurapika needs from him, nothing at _all_ , is the worst thing Leorio has ever felt.

  “He’s there,” Kurapika says, nodding towards a small, ritzy café and bar across the packed street.  The café is called The Tiger Lilly, adorned with white marble and green accents, and outdoor seating.  Leorio can’t see anyone who fits Saul’s description - an old slimey jerk - but he also isn’t really paying attention.

  Before Kurapika can walk them towards the sitting area, Leorio gently takes his arm and says, “Wait.”  

  “Leorio,” the blond says with warning, eyes levelled and stern.

  “Just for a sec!”  

  “We don’t have time for this.”

  “Yeah.”  Leorio nods half-attentively, and takes the few steps needed to be close enough to his friend.  “Just-” He feels his cheeks heating up, but powers through his embarrassment, knowing this is important.  He reaches out and starts moving hair away from Kurapika’s face, re-setting locks that had blown around in the wind.  Kurapika’s eyes widen for a moment and Leorio knows his face has to be red, can feel two blue orbs boring into him.  Then he walks around behind Kurapika to check and be sure that the dress is done up completely, that the bra is covered, and that everything is set right along his body to make him as curved as possible.  If Saul were to notice something less than feminine about him straight away, Leorio doesn’t trust that he’d just let it slide.  He knows these type of people.  Rich, entitled, don’t like to be made a fool of -

  “Leorio.”

  “I’m just making sure!  Is your eye-gunk fine?”  He swings Kurapika around to look at his makeup.

  The blond’s eyes are wide for a moment while he’s twirled around.  “You mean _mascara_?”

  “And your contacts?”

  “They’re fine.”  Kurapika’s expression deflates, turning into something amused.  “Everything is fine.”   Leorio reaches out a moves another lock of hair around, setting it carefully on Kurapika’s shoulder.  Then he frowns and moves it back to the other side of his head again.

  Just as he’s about to move it a third time, the blond sets his hand on Leorio’s wrist and pushes it away.  “ _Leorio_.”  If Leorio didn’t know any better, he’d swear Kurapika was trying really hard not to smile.

  Going with this assumption, he smiles at Kurapika.  It’s a lopsided goofy one, the only kind he can manage when he’s worried about something.  “I know, I know.  You’re tough as nails.”

  Kurapika opens his mouth to say something, his eyes lighten and his hand grips Leorio’s wrist a bit tighter and Leorio feels his heart vibrating for some reason - feels the earth shake and wonders if this is really because because Kurapika looks so much like a girl, when no girl’s ever made the ground shake under his feet.

  But all he does is nod once and say, “We’ve got to move.”  Then clamps his mouth shut, drops Leorio’s hand, and turns on his heels to march across the street.  

  The two youngest of their group follow him and, once he’s got his bearings again, Leorio scampers along behind them.  Like they’d agreed on from Killua’s instructions, the three fake bodyguards walk only a few feet behind Kurapika in a line, like a wall.  Killua had insisted that Leorio stand in the middle _because you’re so damn tall, old man_.  Leorio had grinned and taken it as a compliment.

  Kurapika waits patiently in front of an outdoor table of the café, arms folded and eyes closed.  Leorio and Gon look at each other, confused, and then both of them look at Killua who huffs, rolls his eyes, and goes over to Kurapika and pulls a chair out at the table.  Kurapika sits - and there’s no other word for it - _daintily_ , crossing his legs and folding his hands neatly on his lap.  Then Killua shuffles Leorio and Gon to stand with him behind Kurapika, mumbling something about the two idiots who are going to blow their cover.  

  Leorio scans the few people sitting at the café, but doesn’t see anyone who matches the rich bastard’s description.  On one table there’s a couple sharing a sunday piled at least two feet high.  On another, a woman sitting by herself and talking into a phone.  And another, the last other customer, a middle aged man with brown skin and sunglasses, reading a newspaper.  None of them seem like a rich slimey old bastard who, honestly, four years ago Leorio might have admired - wealthy and surrounded by women - but things have changed and while he still holds money in a certain regard and women are, well, _women_ \- he is now, sometimes, more mature than his teenage self.

  And so Leorio thinks this guy must be an asshole to treat people the way Killua had mentioned, and so already hates him.  Or maybe it’s just that he has Kurapika’s eyes.  Which would be a little less than mature, given that Saul might have no idea where the eyes came from, of the massacre, of the hatred that engulfs his closest friend with every breath he takes.  Some people tell Leorio he’s a bit hapless when it comes to emotional awareness, and he’s sure they’re right; but he’s not a complete idiot and it’s impossible for him not to hate, just a little, every person who steals or purchases a pair of the scarlet eyes.   Who has added to their value and so to Kurapika’s pain.  It’s… reflexive.  

  So maybe he’s not any more mature than four years ago.  

  “So… How are you going to do this, anyway?”  Gon asks.

  Kurapika smiles, eyes still closed.  “Just wait.”

  Not thirty seconds pass and, after Kurapika orders himself a herbal tea, the middle aged man who had been reading a newspaper strides confidently towards them.  He’s tall - maybe even taller than Leorio - with wide shoulders - definitely wider than Leorio’s - and his skin is dark like caramel, something rugged and chiseled about his features, handsome in a way only a middle aged man can be.  He has two rows of perfectly straight, white shining teeth.  He doesn’t give Leorio, Gon, or Killua so much as a glance as he stops across the table from Kurapika, one hand held out to take the blonde’s.

  “I hope the sun knows it has competition for the brightest star in our universe,” is Saul Rutherford’s version of a smooth pickup line, Leorio guesses.  To the man’s left, Killua makes a gagging face.  Leorio does his best to hold back a snicker for fear Kurapika will stomp on his foot for potentially blowing their cover.

  “Oh - thank you,” Kurapika replies in the most uncanny, out of character voice and intonation Leorio has _ever_ heard from him.  He could never imagine it.  It’s not just polite - Kurapika is often polite.  It’s… cutesy.  Modest.   _Bashful_.  And when he places his hand in Saul’s delicately, Leorio realizes who he’s imitating.  The psychic girl with the pen. Lestrode?   _Nostrade_.  

  “And what do I have the pleasure of calling the lady?”  

  “Neon - Neon Nostrade,” he says, voice small and docile.  Kurapika blushes when Saul kisses the top of his hand.  

  Somehow, it’s making Leorio feel a it sick, seeing his friend act so submissive.  

  “Well hello miss Nostrade.  If you don’t mind me saying, it is obvious from your attire you and your subordinates are from out of town.  May I ask what brings such a lovely young woman to my humble chain of islands?”

  “Oh!   _Your_ islands?”  Kurapika blinks rapidly, eyelids fluttering.  Never mind ‘a bit’ sick - Leorio is encroaching full-on nausea.

  Saul nods graciously.  “Would you mind…?”  He gestures towards an empty seat.

  “Please.”

  Saul then dives into a lengthy explanation about the three islands he owns, about the main city, how he came into money, and just generally being the perfect example of the worst date ever.  You’re not supposed to talk about yourself the whole time!  And especially not about how great you are!  And yeah, Leorio does that _all the time_ , goes on about money and babes and his doctorate skills or being good with a knife, but Kurapika always shuts him down with something snappy!  Because that’s how it works, that’s how they work, and they have fun that way!  They’re- they both like it, right?  

  Wait - where was he going with this?

   _Kurapika is just acting.  Relax_.   

  It’s just - he’d expected some short, ugly, old geezer and instead Saul is rugged, tall, lean, and - cheesy or not - confident with his come-ons.  Wouldn’t Kurapika like someone like that?  Confident, strong, dependable. _It’s not a real date!_ His mind rushes out, nearly screaming in his head.  But so what if Kurapika did like him?  What’s it to Leorio?  He already knows Kurapika is about as concerned with gender as a fish is with aerobics, so it’s not about that.   And wouldn’t it be a good thing if the blonde found more love in his life?  

  He watches Saul run fingertips along Kurapika’s bare shoulder, saying something about his skin being as pale as moonlight; watches Kurapika giggle - freaking _giggle_ \- in return; and feels something hot and spindled spike up his spine like burning magna, sharp, viscous and blunt.  Has to swallow to keep it from showing.

  It doesn’t _mean_ anything.  It can’t.  Leorio’s just - like he said - protective of Kurapika.  The guy’s not very good at taking care of himself!  He _needs_ help!  He needs friend to text him and tell him to eat dinner, to remind him to sleep regularly, and to be there so he never forgets that he does, actually, have friends.  That’s all.  

  “You simply must come by my manor and let me give you a proper tour of the city.  And dinner as well, if it would not take up too much of your time.”  

  “That would be lovely,” Kurapika says, giving Saul a shy smile.  “As long as it’s not too much trouble?”

  “None at all.”  His voice is so smooth - like good brandy, Leorio thinks.  And then wonders at his own scratchy tone.  “May I call you in the morning?”

  “Certainly.”

  “Then with that miss Nostrade, I bid you a farewell and wish you a present day in my city.”  After smiling at Kurapika, Saul nods once to the three bodyguards before he leaves.  He walks like an arrogant SOB, in Leorio’s opinion.

  The four of them remain there in silence for a moment - somewhat stunned - before Killua pipes up.  “Idiot.  The sun isn’t the brightest star.”  

  “He seems nice,”  Gon says with a big smile.

  Killua turns to him.  “Of course _you_ like him.”  He rolls his eyes.  “He’s just like you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Corny.”  Killua hums thoughtfully and, with a smirk, adds, “And cheap on first dates.  He didn’t even buy Kurapika a drink.”

  “I’m not cheap!”  Gon pouts.  “Anyway how would you know?  We’ve never been on a date, Killua.”

  “Still,” Killua says, turning away from Gon.

  The white haired teen goes silent then.  While Leorio is wondering if he’s missed something between their younger friends, Kurapika speaks up.  “Sit down and eat something, you three.  We should explore the city for the afternoon to keep up appearances.”

 

* * *

 

  They arrive home later that evening, Leorio carrying what feels like six _billion_ shopping bags as he trips through the door to their apartment.  He isn’t buying Kurapika’s ‘It’s to keep up appearances’ bullshit - the guy just likes to _shop_ and make Leorio’s arms fall off in the process.

  he drops the bags of who even knows what (what did they even buy?  He remembers some clothes, sweets… fishing line?) unceremoniously on the floor with a gigantic sigh, just to make sure the other three know just how exhausting it is to carry their stuff around.  Really, what is he?  The family mule?  

  Killua and Gon race past him where’s stood in the entry way, causing Leorio to teeter a bit off balance.  “Hey!”  he snaps at the teenagers.

  Gon shouts a happy, “Sorry Leorio!” from the bedroom down the hall.   Two seconds later they’re running out of their room, Gon pushing Killua into a wall to get by him and pulling a shirt over his head as he runs.  Killua laughs - malevolently in Leorio’s opinion, and a little less than sane - and throws himself off the wall, trailing behind his friend.

  “Beat you!”  Gon shouts, slamming his hand on the wall next to the front door.

  Stopping behind him, Killua huffs and raises an eyebrow.  “Yeah, by _cheating_.”

  “Dunno what you mean,” Gon replies with an overblown toothy grin.

  “Uh huh.”

  “You two going out?”  Leorio asks, still standing in the entry way.

  Gon turns his smile towards the older hunter.  “Yup!  We’re gonna explore the city at night, right Killua?”

  “Better than staying in with grandma and grandpa.”

  Leorio mocks him under his breath - to which Killua only grins - and then rolls his eyes before saying, “Make sure you find something to eat.”

  “And don’t stay out too late!”  Kurapika calls from somewhere up stairs.  He appears at the top, looking down at them over the railing.  “There are plenty of people here who could give even you two a hard fight.”

  Killua scoffs.  “Yes mom.”

  Kurapika sets his eyes at the white haired teen, not angry or demanding, just intent and informative.  “If you run into trouble, call us.”

  “Yeah yeah,” Killua says.  Leorio can tell he’s a little riled at being unable to tease the blond.  Kurapika has always been a bit above that, anyway.  “You guys too,” Killua adds, probably to feel less patronized, Leorio guesses, but hopefully also because he means it.

  “Come on, Killua!”  Gon slides his arm around his friend’s, pulling them close.  The white haired boy’s face goes pink and Leorio wonders for the second time if he’s missing something between the two.  “Let’s go now so we’ll have lots of time to look around!  I want to check out those flower markets, the toy store, that electronics store, and maybe we can find some street venders to try and…”  

  His voice fades as the two exit the apartment.  Leorio lets out a weary sigh, then lifts the bags into his arms again and carries them onto the living room coffee table.  Then he heads into the kitchen, feeling oddly domestic as he opens the fridge.  This is normally something he does on his own - come home from classes, back to his dorm, and cook himself dinner.  Cooking for others - it’s nice.  Not studying alone for hours in his room is beyond nice.  And seeing people he’s been through hell and back with, the three people in his life he would trust with anything, getting to live with them - and seeing how much taller Gon and Killua have gotten - is twice as beyond nice.

_Crap those kids shot up like bean sprouts!  They’re nearly as tall as Kurapika._

  Leorio rubs at some dust - definitely nothing else - in his eye.

  Kurapika comes down a few minutes later.

  Watching him walk down the stairs, Leorio feels strangely right, like a piece of a puzzle was put into the last empty space.  He wants to pour him a glass of wine again.  He also wants to set him in a chair and check his vitals, because it’s only been two days since he’d been working the underground.  

  “So,” Leorio starts when Kurapika takes a seat at one of the high stools.  He’s still in the dress, which is fine except that Leorio can’t think of a reason for it.  “What do you think?”

  “Of Saul?”

  “Yeah.”

  Kurapika hums thoughtfully.  “He doesn’t appear to be the man we had assumed.  I don’t enjoy taking these eyes from people who are otherwise amicable.”

  Leorio frowns.  “I don’t like him.”  He leans his elbows along the counter, watching the wide windows salon the living-room half.  “And,” he continues, “If the reports we have on him are true, then _that_ was all an act.  We’ve got to keep our guard up.”  He eyes Kurapika warily.  “It’s not like you to be fooled by someone like that.”    

  “I wasn’t _fooled_.”  Kurapika bristles like a bothered cat, fur on end.  “He was just…”   _Just what?_ Leorio thinks, head spinning with frustration.  Confusion more than anything.  If he would just take that dress off, then Leorio’s _sure_ he could calm down.  “Different.  From the people I normally deceive.”  

  “ _Different_?”  Leorio’s voice hikes up at least three octaves too many, and he reels on Kurapika, standing straight up.  “He sought out and paid for a pair of eyes known to be from a klan slaughtered by the Ryodan - _your_ clan, in case you forgot - everyone you loved, a whole _culture_ , not giving a shit who he hurts in the process - and he knows, Kurapika, everyone knows where those eyes are from!  He’s -”  Around the time Leorio had said ‘in case your forgot’ Kurapika’s expression had dropped, fallen into that same deep dark pit he always ends up in, a place Leorio can only sort of understand from losing Pietro.  His voice dies in his throat as he tries to speak.  “Shi-”

  “It’s okay,” Kurapika cuts in quickly, eyes hardening.  

  “It’s not, it’s not,” Leorio rounds the island in a clumsy rush, not contemplating the act, hands shaking when he stops in front of Kurapika who is still sat on the stool.  He glues his hands to his sides but wants, more than anything, to hold the face in front of him.  Can practically feel everything Kurapika is keeping locked away.  But something stops him.  Like the action has a different connotation, like he’d be pushing them along to somewhere he isn’t ready to go.  

  “Fuck.  Me and my stupid mouth.”  

  Kurapika’s hard expression breaks then, a jittered laugh tumbling past his lips.  Not a happy one, but the kind that comes from being over stressed for too long.  “Well, you’re right about that.”  Leorio watches water well up in two grey eyes, his own widening in surprise and then, realizing he’s the cause, mild horror.  “You’ve definitely got no tact.”

  “Kurapika…”  

  “It’s just because you’re here, you big idiot.  It’s you.”  The blond pushes Leorio’s face away, but not harshly.  “I hear people talk about my clan all the time when I’m working.”  He wipes the tears from his eyes before they fall, and takes a slow breath to calm himself.  Leorio turns his head to look at him again.  “And they say ruder things than _you_ could ever come up with.”  He snorts at the shot to his mental prowess.  “But I never - It doesn’t get to me.  I mean, it makes me angry, but it doesn’t…” Kurapika gestures to his glazed-over eyes, “You know.”

  “Sorry,” Leorio says, soft and low.  He knows it comes up short but the idea of saying anything else, _doing_ anything else, freaks him out.  He scrunches his eyes closed, upset at himself and his inability to think before he speaks and mad at whatever this thing is between them that is making everything _weird_.  “Sorry,” he says again, frustrated.

  Kurapika shakes his head.  “It’s fine.  I probably deserved it.”

  “What’s _that_ supposed to mean?”

  “Nothing.”  The blond puts a hand on Leorio’s shoulder, smiling a little.  The med student has a suspicion it’s a bit forced.  “You’re right, about Saul I mean.  We can’t trust him.”

  Leorio looks from Kurapika to the hand on his shoulder and back to Kurapika again.  Feels far out of depth, unsure, like he’s tripped into something new; Kurapika’s gaze in unwavering and trusting and focused.  “Uh.”  He clears his throat, suddenly realizing that grey eyes look nice with blond hair.  When had Kurapika taken the contacts out?  Leorio doesn’t see his natural eye colour often.  Why does the hand on his shoulder feel so steadying?  “Um.”  Leorio clears his throat again.  Meets Kurapika’s gaze, finally, and wonders if his cheeks are red.  His face feels on fire.  “You… want a glass of wine?”

  “Just let me change first.”

  Kurapika comes back downstairs in a simple back sleeveless shirt and the white pants he usually wears.   Leorio finds his eyes stuck on the rounding muscles of his arms, up to his collar bone and up his long neck.  

   What the hell is _this_?  Gawking at him while he looks like a cute wealthy city girl is one thing - but right now Kurapika looks about as plain as he gets and Leorio can’t stop looking.  

  He watches Kurapika rake him up and down with grey eyes, his lips parted; their eyes meet and lock and suddenly Leorio is thinking about how they’ve got the place to themselves for at least three hours -

_What the fuck what the fuck what -_

  “I think I’ll drink that wine in the bath,” Kurapika says, curtly, closing his eyes as he walks behind the kitchen island.  

  Leorio’s chest feels like a balloon full of too much hot air.  It dissipates as he speaks, rushing out.  “Yeah?”  

  Kurapika marches out of the kitchen, wine bottle and glass in hand, and Leorio watches him go.  All he can picture is Kurapika drinking alone in the bathroom, wonders how many nights he spends alone in dark places that teach him only how to hate the world more and more.  Fuel his rage, which is what the blond wants but isn’t at all what Leorio thinks he needs.  Doesn’t _want_ him to leave because they have the place to _themselves_ -

  Groaning loudly Leorio grabs at his hair in frustration and throws himself on the couch in an exhausted poof.  “ _What the hell is happening_ ,” he mumbles under his breath into the empty room.  

 

* * *

 

  Killua grins wide as he chases after Gon along the low roof tops of Sanhitori’s outer ring, swooping from worn house to house with the wind beating at his back.  While he knows upper-class niceties inside and out, Killua would always rather be doing this, nightrunning with his best friend somewhere new and foreign - sneaking over quietly sleeping families.  He’s always loved racing around at night, even when he’d worked for his family; now at last he can do it without murdering anyone.  

  They’d already stopped at the toy store.  It was just full of junk, basically.  But for a guy who grew up on a far away, non-commercialized island, he guesses it must be interesting.  Absolutely ancient gaming councils, wooden toy trains, dolls with dead eyes that follow you around the room - somehow it was more like a small shop for horrors than any toy store Killua’s ever seen.  Gon didn’t have any clue about electronics or gadgets, though, so Killua let it slide.  And his brown eyes were so huge, gaping openly at something as small as a a tiny terrarium or an old arcade game.  He wouldn’t, couldn’t, snuff out any light from his best friend, not now that things were finally good.

  With their exploration of the city at dark over, Gon had taken them galavanting across rooftops of the poorer districts.  Abruptly, Gon changes their direction, heading toward the city centre they’d come from.  Killua doesn’t question it really - definitely used to his friend’s persistent spontaneity.

  That is, until he looks up at where Gon has stopped.

  “What’s this?”  Killua asks, looking up at the ritzy, high-class restaurant, wondering what Gon is up to.  

  The black haired boy turns to face him pointedly.  “Killua.”

  “What?”  He looks, lost, back at brown eyes.

  “You wanna eat here?”  

  They’re not quiet in the centre of the city.  The restaurant isn’t as nice as the places Killua’s family would visit - but he hadn’t liked going out to eat with them.  And why is he thinking of ‘family’ right now anyway?  Gon’s big brown eyes bore into him, as if an answer to this wayward thought.

  “Do you?  Killua?”

  He shrugs.  “Whatever.  You hungry?”  Gon only nods, lips clamped together like he’s trying to hold back a roar of joy.  Is this place special to him or something?

  Gon holds the door open for Killua, who walks into the warm restaurant affecting a typical aloof air, though he’s growing more worried about his counterpart’s odd behaviour by the minute.  

  They’re seated by a very formal server who lifts her nose at their attire, which Killua admits is lacking considering their surroundings.  He shifts uncomfortably in his seat.  Is he going to ask them if they can afford this meal?  God, what does he even care for?  What is going on!  Blistering, like a cat with its hair standing on end, Killua sits up straight and opens his mouth to order drinks.  Because out of the two of them, he’s the one with the know-how in this situation.

  Gon beats him to it.  “Two glasses of coeval blanc, please,” he says.  

  Killua’s eyes widen, slightly.  He hadn’t even read the menu.  How…?  

  Their server’s disdainful expression fades.  Only members of the high class would know what to order here without looking, and so she’s assured of their social standing - or probably thinks they’re the kids of wealth.  Which is true in Killua’s case but…

  “Gon, how…”

  He’s cut off.  Or maybe the other boy just hadn’t been listening.  “Do you know that Leorio’s in love with Kurapika?”

  Killua snorts.  “Does _Leorio_ know he’s in love with Kurapika?”

  Gon laughs, before speaking again.  “It’s kind of sad… Why doesn’t Kurapika say something?”

  Killua eyes his friend.  “We can’t get involved.”

  “So you know why?”

  “I’m surprised you even noticed there’s something going on.”

  Gon sneers playfully at his friend, the jab at his less-than-perfect perception a normal occurrence between the two.  His expression softens slowly.  Like falling snow, Killua thinks, before retracting the thought and glaring intently at the table.  Never mind Leorio and Kurapika’s love problems, he’s got enough of his own to deal with.  Waxing poetic like some love-struck teenager.  Well, he _is_ a love-struck teenager, technically.

  “Leorio looks at him differently,” Gon says.

  Killua rolls his eyes.  “They’ve had it for each other since the _Hunter_ exam.”

  “What!”  The boy opposite him gawks.  “That long ago?  And I just noticed _now_?”

  “Yet again your Powers of Perception prove non-existent,” he says, waving a hand in the air as he speaks and smirking at his friend.

  “But something’s different.” Gon frowns, folding his arms in deep thought.  “Maybe they just kind of liked each other back then, and _now_ they’re really in love.  And how do you know why Kurapika won’t say anything?  Did he talk to you about it?”

  Killua shakes his head.  “No.  It’s just obvious.”  Before Gon can ask about it (because Kurapika’s desire to stay enraged and the fact that Leorio negates this feeling are not things he likely wants others to know), he continues.  “Why do you care so much anyway?”

  “They’re our _friends_ ,” Gon says, “And I don’t understand what’s stopping them.”

  “Med school and a scavenger hunt.”

  “ _Killua_.”

  The white haired boy sighs in exasperation.  When Gon says his name like that, it means ‘be serious please,’ and he’s found he’s helpless to ignore the request.  “Fine, sorry.  They’re both really independent people working towards life-long dreams, and one of them, guess who, is too stupid to even realize he’s _enamoured_.”  Killua snorts.

  “But it’s been four years!”

  Killua shrugs.  

  “They were basically the age we are now when they met.”

  Before Killua can ask how exactly _that_ matters, their server comes back with red wine and takes their order.  Surprising him again, Gon orders them both meals without having looked at the menu. He asks for something Killua not only likes but also fits this high-class situation they’re in.  What the hell is going on?  How does Gon know what to order, the social customs required to be served here?  Killua had assumed he’d need to step in and order for them, stop Gon from doing something “common.”  

  Once the server is gone again, Gon flips Killua a huge smile.  And why should it be so expansive?  And why must he noticed it so completely?  His own mind is turning on him, teaming with this stupid poetic crap about a smile like sunshine eyes as open and accepting as any galaxy, the warmth and love behind them utterly honest; and what is Killua supposed to _do_?  He’s felt this way since they were kids.  His cheeks heat up as Gon’s smile slips into something lower, a calm gaze shared between them that says a million things more than words.  But nothing close to what Killua means.

  “Do you remember when we finally saw each other again, after?”

  “Don’t you dare.”  

  Gon grins at him.  “You couldn’t believe my muscles!”  He flexes, showing off his - relative to his eleven year old self - larger forearms.  “Your face went bright red!”  He laughs again.  “Just like _now_!”

  “Shut up,” Killua develops an intense interest in the candle centred on the table, “You were- are- You just grew up, that’s all.”

   “You’re taller than me now.  Do you think it’ll stay that way?”

   “How should I know?”

   Their meals come and Gon goes on about their past, asks about Alluka and, specifically, how she feels about weddings.  Killua expects a certain amount of randomness from Gon, but this is way beyond that.  Bringing up Leorio and Kurapika’s choking romance?  But he doesn’t mind it.  The black haired boy is bright, speaking rapidly and fully.  

  When they get the bill, Gon pays for them both.

 

* * *

 

 _Idiot!_  Kurapika thinks for the millionth time.  Saying he thinks Saul is a good man, just to get a reaction from Leorio.   _Sick, twisted, idiot!_  He sets his forehead on his naked knee, curled up in the warm bath water.  Reduced to the tactics of a jealous child, after only a few days with Leorio.  How affected he is.  How impossible it is proving to ignore his heart.  The man’s smell, his warm body, the care behind his eyes, fretting over his clothes to make sure he stays safe - it’s too much.  Kurapika can lock himself down when set against anyone else, in any other situation, but his longing is proving to be too heavy.  He is in _love_ , so far gone into it that even though he doesn’t want to be, his chest positively swells with the admittance.  

And it isn’t an awestruck love.  The kind that sweeps people off their feet for the first few months of a new romance.  No, Kurapika loves Leorio like they’ve already spent a lifetime together.  An ancient, weighted love, older than either of them.  

There is a word for it in his mother tongue, useless dead language that it is.

Wine bottle half empty, Kurapika stands and exits the bath.  He pulls a warm robe on, grabs the bottle to return it to the kitchen, and leaves the bathroom.  Wet footprints stamp the hallway.  It’s late, well past midnight, but there is a light on in the kitchen half of the main room.

He thinks it must be Leorio and, if it is, Kurapika knows he’ll give in.  

But it isn’t.  Instead, Gon and Killua are in the dark living room, kitchen light shining across the room, falling over them.  They’re standing close, not speaking, air around them quiet and clearly delicate.  Unable to help himself, Kurapika slinks back into the shadowed hallway to watch.  Only for a moment, he thinks, hearing distinctly a certain medical student snickering at him in his head.  (Leorio can stuff it!  With such abysmal parents, Kurapika can’t not feel a little inclined, on occasion, to fill the gap).

Is this…?

“Did you have fun?”  Gon says, his head dipping low and voice teeming with a flood of affection.  An earnest wondering.

Killua’s face is bright red.  “Yeah.”

 “Sooooo….”  

“ _What_?”

Gon grins in a way that Leorio would call ‘shit-eating.’  His hands move to rest on Killua’s hips and he says, “I _told_ you I wasn’t a bad date.”  And before Killua can roll his eyes in a act of exasperation, Gon leans in and kisses him.  Evident by the widening of two blue eyes, it’s their first.

Kurapika smiles as he turns to leave, worlds of happy for his friends despite the hopeless longing in his own heart.


End file.
